The Elephant Has No Shoes
Elijah elephant trumpets the blues
He’s having problems finding some shoes
If he can’t find his size, he plans to sue
He needs more than two and wants to choose
He won’t perform, so the circus sends out its crews
To find four shoes that fit and won’t bruise
But the men who raise the tents have no clues
As they go to the store and line up in queues
They search through the racks, two by two’s
Try as they might, they can’t find elephant shoes
Say follow me to the elephant who falls for their ruse
Reasoning he’ll be happier at zoo in consensus of views
Blindly, the elephant trails the crew to the zoo
Bare feet hurt so sips through trunk bottle of booze
Reasoning in his unforgettable mind, he can’t lose
Because there are lots of female elephants, he muses!
Walk a mile in shoes
In my faded blue converse
Show me where they take you
When the world has forgotten us
Walk a mile in my worn out soles
Passing through happiness and fear
Linger a while in the good times
Sprint through the tears
A time machine on my front porch
Where my shoes leave their print
You'll make my mark wherever you wander
A size six and a half indent
Walk A Mile In Them
If you'd walked in them a day
Surely you'd see the things I've sown
The places I have been
The joys and troubles I've known
But I'm in them, you see
Only I can know and feel these things
They hold memories good and bad
Smiles and sorrow each memory brings
So, you walk in yours and I'll walk in mine
And do not judge me for the path I chose
A different one perhaps you'd have taken
Depending on the direction life's wind blows
You know something? Life sucks.
When you're lace deep in mud,
you know it ain't gonna get any better.
This is it. A toe poking through my mouth,
a ripped tongue, worn to the sole,
nothing like them others.
The fancy heels. The boots she shines.
I think I was blue once?
I'm kinda grey now.
That's what it'll do to ya.
Getting slapped in the face day after day,
Concrete teeth, gravel lips.
But this isn't it.
It gets so much worse.
Stuck here in the dark,
Not even in a pair no more.
Separated. Flung. Discarded.
Watching the brief slithers of light,
as the others depart and return,
Wondering when the end will come.
City night walkin', city street talkin', smooth like concrete. Steps tall like she owns them, dances hot on the beat. Her presence is thunder, storm six inches high. Eyes follow her toe up her calf to her thigh. Six inches below, their words make no sound. Slips on her stilettos, worries left on the ground.
Copyright 2016 Angela Skaggs
With their tongue do they speak,
And with their soul do they comfort.
Forever am I indebted to the Constant Companion beneath my feet.
They all come to protect me and wear down in the process.
Nothing less do they deserve than a memorial.
Nothing less do they deserve than a well worn life.
Through mud and sand,
snow and sleet;
you've carried me
taking care of my feet.
In pinks, blues;
in many different hues.
You can make or break an outfit,
you can make me feel good.
Sometimes I see you,
sitting pretty in a store.
I can't help but walk in,
to buy you and more.
But, my friend, I'm afraid;
will this passion fade, as I grow.
Will I remember your feel,
your leather, your sole.
But for now we'll rest easy,
there's a long way till then.
I guess I could stop buying shoes,
but I might just go insane!
Lace a lasso as leather fails,
as used amusement steps.
A constant staircase,
as vague as swimming
Threadly threatened thouroughly,
in an unwilling lament, tragically.
A pair of green shoes,
as statues in the grass,
Feed my feet, fatigue.
Won't need no new ones.
An intrigued toe,
as a giant foe,
Written wheat, lacking wit.
Won't open, the lit leak.
A delighted friend,
calling on my name,
as he recognizes
by my steps
in my shoes.